“I have to poop!”

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On Friday night I was responding to a traffic collision when I saw a car run a stop sign as it turned left. There were units at the collision scene so I decided to stop the car.

I put my lights on and the vehicle pulled over abruptly. I exited my car and walked up on the driver door with my hand on my gun. A shone my flashing into the car as I looked for the driver’s hands.

I inched closer wondering what was up with the driver because of the abrupt stop and the way he ran the stop sign. That’s when he turned toward me with a panicked look as he practically yelled, “Officer, I have to poop! I have to poop!”

“You have to poop?”

“Yes, I have to poop!”

“Are you sweating?” I asked.

“No,” he replied with a strange look.

“Then you don’t have to poop that bad then.”

“I do.”

“Why didn’t you poop at the toco place down the street?”

“There was a taco place?”

He was talking fast and looked like he was crowning. From his facial expressions, he probably had a turtle head going. At one point he leaned back in his seat like he was trying to keep the deuce back.

“How do I know you really have to poop?” I asked.

“Can you follow me to Walmart so we can talk about it there? Thats where I was going.”

At this point I figured he was legit. Maybe the poor guy really had to poop. I decided to have one last bit of fun before I let him go without a ticket.

I said, “Tell me a joke and make me laugh. Then you can go.” He closed his eyes and was deep in thought, but nothing funny was going to come from him. “And no number 2 jokes either,” I added.

With his head on the headrest and eyes closed, the driver licked both index fingers and rubbed his earlobes as he said, “My dad says this works.”

WTF?

The earlobe thing made it weird. After his ears were nice and lubricated he said, “Why did the chicken cross the road?”

“That’s not a joke,” I corrected him, causing him to laugh.

Clearly this guy wasn’t good under pressure. He wasn’t the quarterback you wanted with the game on the line. He was just jello.

I laughed and handed him his license back as I said, “Go do that voodoo that you do.”

With a look of relief, the driver leaned out the window and said, “Thank you!”

What a crappy feeling it must’ve been when I stopped him.

You just can’t make this stuff up.

Just Call Her Poopy Pants

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There’s one thing for sure about this job. We see people at their worst. At their lowest of lows. At rock bottom. We see them at their Poopy Pants worst.

Some of this is self-inflicted. Some of it is just bad luck. The self-inflicted stuff is where the comedy of this profession comes out. It’s where some of the best stories come from. It’s where you stand there and say, “I can’t believe I just saw that.” Last Friday night will go down in history as one of the most unusual stories from a collision scene I have ever witnessed.

An injury traffic collision went out at about 2:15AM involving a vehicle that struck a pole. This is a pretty typical call for that time of the night so I didn’t think anything of it.

I drove down the street and saw a pole imbedded into the front of a car. An ambulance just arrived and there was another patrol car there. I got out of my car and walked up to an officer. He pointed to the crashed car and said, “She’s taking a dump on the sidewalk.”

Now, that’s not something you hear every day.

I looked over to the car and saw the passenger door open with a woman squatting down on the edge of the vehicle next to the seat. She was partially blocked by ambulance personnel.

I walked up and saw her pajama pants pulled down to her knees and there was a pile of you know what right underneath her. There was a strong odor of a person who had been drinking and who had just left a “number two” on the sidewalk. I have seen many people pee and vomit themselves while drunk, but this took it to an entirely new level.

Did I mention she was six months pregnant and unlicensed?

You just can’t make this stuff up.

When the tow truck driver arrived I pointed out the mess because I didn’t want him to step in it. The tow driver looked at it and said he didn’t want poop on the bed of his truck. I found it funny he was worried about that. Never mind all of the cars that have leaked hazardous fluids onto his flatbed tow truck in the past? Now he was worried about a little number two.

The tow truck driver then did his best to maneuver the front of the vehicle around the pile of poop with the skill of an artist painting a masterpiece. Instead of paint and brushes, he tugged and pulled with the cable and used a shim under one of the tires as the vehicle turned. Once the right front tire cleared the pile he completed the job and I left.

As I drove away I couldn’t help laughing and thinking how this woman was SOL (shit out of luck). I also remembered what a shitty job this was. And most of all, you also can’t make this shit up (I couldn’t resist).